Tales of the Lost Island
by James Church
Summary: Two shows both set in the South Pacific, both with mysterious islands...finally meet.  Own no characters.
1. Chapter 1

OUT OF RETIREMENT-

It was a cool January 3rd in San Diego. And Jake Cutter's wife Kay had insisted that he wear a scarf. He balked, but he knew there was no saying "no" to the woman and once he hit the 50 degree wind on the way out to his Buick Skylark, he agreed she was right. The tall, lean man in his early fifties pulled the scarf tight around his neck against the wind.

He reached the office some thirty minutes later. Madge, his secretary, had yet to arrive as well as some of the other office staff. They had just come off a long holiday for New Year's. As he sat at his desk, he pulled out the brand-new 1955 desk calendar and laid it on his desk. He had barely started going through some old memos and mail, when he heard the outer door open and a man call out. "Hello?"

Jake walked over and opened his door. Standing there was a tall, muscular man in his thirties, in a pinstripe suit, carrying a small valise. He had an angular face, with a slightly receding hairline of his tight, curly hair. Cutter immediately sized him up for ex-military, probably ex-Marine. And nobody to be trifled with. "Can I help you?" The man smiled, a kind of forced smile that Jake didn't like. "Mr. Cutter?" he stepped forward to shake hands, "Christopher Kearny, I'm from the Government, can we talk?" Jake shook his hand and let him into the office.

They sat and Kearny began pulling papers from the valise. "What can I do for you, Mr. Kearny?" Jake began apprehensively. The man pulled out his final papers and smiled that forced smile again. He read the top paper. "Jacob Cutter, fifty-one. Married to 'Kay' Cutter" Jake noticed a slight hesitation when Kearny mentioned Kay. "He knows", Jake thought to himself. Kearny kept reading. "Two sons. Louis, age seven; Flynn, age five. President of Trans-Oceanic Airlines. Former lieutenant colonel US Army Air Corps, Distinguished Flying Cross, two Purple Hearts." He paused. "Various other 'activities' before the war."

Jake tried to act genial. "You working up my 'This Is Your Life'? Me and my wife love that show?" Kearny smirked. "We have a problem, Mr. Cutter. And we think you can help us." Jake interrupted. "I don't think I caught what 'branch' of the Government you were with, Mr. Kearny?" Kearny looked around the room casually. "Let's say, an agency that keeps a low profile, offshoot of the one you did some work for in '44 with Bill Donovan?" Jake nodded. "CIA." Kearny smiled that shark-like smile again.

"Mr. Kearny, I'm a businessman. Running a modest trans-Pacific airline. I've been out of the cloak-and-dagger business, what little I was in it, for a long time." Kearny wasn't put off. "Regardless, Mr. Cutter, we have need of somebody with your expertise. We have a little situation in the …Marivellas." Jake leaned forward. "What kind of 'situation'?"

Kearny started his spiel, obviously well-rehearsed. "First, everything I'm going to tell you is classified. You breathe a word of it and you'll be looking at hard time." Jake got angry. "I'm a loyal American, Mr. Kearny. I don't need to be…" Kearny cut him off. "I'm just letting you know what the deal is, Cutter…and where you stand." Jake bit his tongue and kept listening. Kearny continued.

"Four months ago, we dispatched a US Army team to an island in the Marivellas. They were setting up an H-bomb test. Two months later, we lost contact with the team. Eighteen guys. A Navy Panther recon flight sent in last month seemed to have some 'difficulty' locating the island. So did a destroyer sent in last week." Jake stared at Kearny for a moment, and then smiled. "Are you telling me, you not only lost a hydrogen bomb….you lost an island?" Kearny wasn't smiling. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

He continued. "Since the US took possession of the Marivellas after the re-occupation from the Japs, we've had a lot of weird stuff happen out there. Things, you, from your record, are no doubt familiar with." Jake remembered and knew that Sarah must have filed lots of reports back to the old Army Intelligence guys. "So we need an expert on the area to go in, find the island, find our bomb, and find out what happened to our men."

Jake shook his head again. "You got the wrong guy, Mr. Kearny. I haven't been in the Marivellas for nearly ten years. And certainly not since The Big Quake of '45. Half the islands were sunk and Boragora was so damaged, even the French colonials left it. Most of the landmarks I know are gone." Kearny was not buying it. "Still, you flew those islands for several years and are our best hope right now."

Jake stood up. "Forget it. Lots of younger men around, and I'm too busy to go running off to the South Pacific to help you guys find your lost firecrackers." Kearny remained seated. He shuffled through his papers, then pulled one out. "'Kay Tanner' Cutter," he began, "forty-four. Place of birth…'San Francisco'. But no birth record on file. No parents. In fact, nothing official until January 1946, when she married you in Honolulu." He sniffed and pulled out a different paper.

"Koji Tanaka. Born 1910, Tokyo. Daughter of an Irish sea captain and Princess Hoshi, cousin to Hirohito himself. Impressive." Jake sat back down. "Disappeared November 1945, while under arrest by the Occupation Government for seventeen major crimes. MacArthur himself was going to sit in on the hearings, I see." Kearny folded the papers back together. "No official photos of 'Princess Koji' exist, but there are several witnesses still alive in Japan who could identify her if she was deported."

Jake grimaced at Kearny. "No choice, huh?" Kearny smiled his smile. "Not if you want to keep that little 'I Love Lucy' half-Jap wife of yours out of prison." Jake felt his right fist clench, then he released it. He slumped. "Okay, fine. What's the name of this island where you so carelessly lost a bomb capable of wiping out an entire city?"

"Ile de Fumée," Kearny responded in deadpan. Jake laughed out loud. "Ile de Fumée? You pulling a con on me?" Kearny shook his head slowly. Jake continued, laughing, "That island doesn't exist. Hell, I was all over those islands and only the drunkest wharf rat ever believed it did exist." "It exists, Mr. Cutter," Kearny began, "I've got photos if you like. And we know the general location…about four hundred miles southeast of Tagataya." Jake was still chuckling. "Bull, Kearny. I flew out of Tagataya a dozen times, from there to the Ellice to the Santa Cruzes. There was no Ile de Fumée." Kearny pulled out his papers again. A map of the Marivellas, as well as parts of the Solomon Islands to the southwest and the Ellice Islands to the east. He laid it out on Jake's desk. A red circle was drawn on a spot south of the island of Tagataya. Nothing on the map, just a red circle.

"There's nothing there, " Jake stated. "Yeah, well…there was" Kearny stated. He sat back down. "So, what am I supposed to do if I find it?" Jake asked. "Land with our guy, survey the island, find the bomb, find the troops…or find out what happened to them?" "Your guy?" "Randall DeGroot, he'll be with you the whole time. He was a B-17 pilot, worked with the partisans, been training at Oak Ridge in nuclear materials." Kearny reached into his valise and pulled out a manila envelope. "Four thousand in cash, plane tickets for tomorrow…" "Tomorrow?" Jake blurted, "I can't just le…" Kearny ignored him and continued.

"From here to San Francisco to Hawaii." "I don't need plane tickets, " Jake said defeated, "I own an airline." Kearny shrugged and disdainfully looked around at the smallish office. . "Use 'em, it'll draw less attention. Once in Hawaii, you'll find your own way out to Wake, then down to Tagataya. The Navy keeps an outpost there, where you can re-supply. DeGroot will be briefed and have special radio frequencies for you to contact us. In an emergency, the USS Sandshark, a Tench-class, will be stationed off Tagataya Island. They can make pick up if you need it." He stood, gathering his stuff. "Any questions?" Jake shook his head. Kearny nodded. "Anything else?" he asked. Jake looked at him straight in the eye. "I don't like you Kearny." Kearny flashed his shark-like smile. "I don't care." And he walked out.


	2. Chapter 2

DEPARTURE

The rest of the day, Jake settled his affairs. When Madge came in, he told her that a big business deal had come up in Australia and that he would be heading out. He put Decker, his Vice-President, in charge until his return. Signed off on a few things and then headed home by lunch. He dreaded telling Koji the news.

Since the end of the war, they had both put aside their "previous lives". Jake had inherited his estranged father's aviation company. Koji, now known as "Kay", had secreted some money away in a bank account in Switzerland that neither the Japanese nor American Occupation had found. With it, they had both started "Trans-Oceanic", as well as "smoothed over" any problems getting her in the country and seeing that "Kay Tanner" became a citizen. It wasn't a lavish lifestyle. TOA mostly ran the Hawaii route and a few routes to LA, San Francisco, and Las Vegas, picking up fares that TWA and Pan Am didn't get. But it was comfortable.

Their life had been pretty normal after that. The typical post-War suburban family. Two kids, two cars, two thousand square foot house in the Golden Hills neighborhood of San Diego. Little League, barbeques in the backyard, the occasional cocktail party with the neighbors, with "Kay" as the perfect hostess. Nothing strange or illicit about the Cutter family at all... Now? The past was finally catching up with her, with them.

As he pulled into the driveway, he saw "Kay" collecting roses out of the backyard garden. She heard him as he walked up and turned, beaming. "Jake? What are you doing home?" She smiled a knowing smile. "Thinking of taking an extra long lunch hour? Flynn's over at Joanne's playing with Eddie, we could…" He smiled and kissed her gently. "Koji, sweetheart, we need to talk." She was surprised to hear him call her by her real name, as he led her back into the kitchen.

Minutes later, Koji Cutter sat at the table, with a weakened, but resolute look on her face. "Jake, we can fight this. You know Senator Kuchel." Her husband shook his head. "No, honey. That guy meant business, I know the type. He'd turn you in just for spite and we'd spend years in court and even if we won, it'd bankrupt us. With all the 'Red Scare' stuff, the Government prosecutors look for any chance to show how tough they are." She sighed and looked down at the table. "Look," Jake began, slowly, "It seems a simple job. Either this DeGroot and I find Ile de Fumee or we don't. I'm betting we don't. But if we do, then, we pop in, find out what happened to those soldiers and that bomb and we get out fast." He lifted her face with his hand. "Be like the old days" he smiled. She managed a weak smile.

"Okay," Koji began now determined, "What's your plan?" He thought a moment. "First I'm going to get Corky and the Goose in Honolulu." She smiled broadly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" she asked. Jake smiled broadly too. "Christmas of '51, when he and Tiki came over. But I talked to him on the phone before New Year's. He even asked me when we were going to bring the kids out to play with his kids." She nodded.

Since the War, Corky had married one of the native girls from Bora Gora and started a small island hopping cargo and tour service in the Hawaiian Islands, still using Jake's old Grumman seaplane. Corky had fully sobered up and made a decent living. But even though they were only a few hours away by plane, the old friends had drifted apart and only rarely spoke and even rarer saw each other as family and business pulled them away.

"Then what?" Koji continued. "Wake, the Marshalls, then Bora Gora. There, we'll get what information we can, then Tagataya and then…" Koji put her hand on Jake's hand. "Jake? Ile de Fumee is a legend, there's nothing to it. I even sent an expedition to find it before the War, neither the boat nor the crew ever returned. Lost at sea." A pause. "Maybe" she added. He nodded. "I know. But unless I can prove that to the CIA or get them off our backs, our goose is cooked." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, I figure we'll be gone two weeks or so. I'll tell the boys tonight at dinner…tell 'em it's a business trip." He looked up at Koji. "You be all right, while I'm gone?" She smiled lightly, her deep brown eyes on his. "Sure…although I'll be awfully lonely, Jake. I might need one of our special 'baths' before you leave." Jake's eyes widened. The Japanese-style bath they had built in the master bathroom had been at Koji's insistence…and Jake's great fondness. They proceeded upstairs.

That night, after Louie had got home from school and his kid brother returned from the neighbors, Jake explained to his young sons that he was going away on business and to look out for their mother. They bombarded him with a million questions, but he put it off to just "a quick trip down to Australia. If I can, I'll buy you guys a real boomerang that flies back to you." After they went to bed, he began packing.

As he dug through the back of the closet, he came across his old Flying Tigers jacket, the Chinese Republic chit slightly frayed on the inside. On the shelf above, was his old "crush cap." A pair of brown leather boots was underneath the jacket on the floor. All were collecting dust and the leather on the jacket was cracked in dozen places, with light tan scratches. He brushed them off and tossed the jacket and cap onto his suitcase. A smile crept across his face. Koji walked in just as he came back out with a pair of boots. She smiled at him. "Put them on" she ordered. It reminded Jake of the "old Princess." Smiling back, he took off his suit jacket, pulled off his dress shoes. Then slipped into his old black leather boots. He then put on the jacket and the aviator officer's cap.

Koji frowned. "What?" Jake stated confused, "They still fit." She shook her head. "Something is missing." She went over to his briefcase and opened it. She dug through the contents for a minute and then pulled something small and slender and brown out of it. She walked over to Jake and popped the end in his mouth. It was a cheroot cigar. "There…now you're ready." He looked at himself in her full length mirror across the room for a few minutes. True, a little thicker around the middle, a bit looser around the jowls, some wrinkles not there before, and some grey on the temples. But pretty close. When he turned back to Koji…she was nude. "I think I need another bath, Mr. Cutter." He grinned broadly.


	3. Chapter 3

A LITTLE BACKGROUND INFO-

The flight from San Diego to San Francisco was uneventful, though Jake admitted he wasn't too fond of flying the competition. As he got off the plane and into the terminal, a muscular man, with dark, curly hair in his thirties wearing a blue suit, walked up to him, carrying a small kit bag. His face was very tanned, behind aviator sunglasses. "Jake Cutter?" Jake nodded. "Randall DeGroot, I guess?" DeGroot nodded. "Our flight to Honolulu is in an hour, thought I might brief you a little before we leave." DeGroot led Jake to a VIP room off the main corridor of the terminal building. Pulling a key, he unlocked it and the two men sat in lounge chairs. An open bar was at one end of the room.

"CIA has its privileges?" Jake began, looking around. DeGroot grimaced slightly. "I'd prefer if you didn't actually say the name of the 'company' I work for from now on, Mr. Cutter. Just let it be known I'm South Pacific/ANZAC liaison for it." Jake smiled. DeGroot continued. "Our cover story in Hawaii and in the Marivellas is that you're looking for new 'ports of call' for your airline and I'm a pilot you're thinking of hiring." Jake nodded. "Okay, whatever. I guess that's why Kearny mentioned you flew B-17s?" DeGroot nodded. "You hire a lot of veteran pilots, right? So the story is plausible."

Jake stood up and poured himself a Scotch. He motioned to DeGroot, who waved him off. "So, let's get down to it. What's the deal with the island…the bomb…the troops? Everything." DeGroot pulled out a folder from his kit bag. He began reading. "Ile de Fumee. Part of the Marivellas Island chain. First catalogued by the French explorer Beauchamp in 1794 that named the Marivellas, but he just named it. Some later Danish sea trader supposedly fully explored it in the 1850s, mentioned all sorts of weird things. Its location was the 'stuff of legends' up to recently. Primarily, the idea that…" Jake had sat back down and finished one swallow of his drink and finished the sentence. "That it was the home of the 'Fountain of Youth'…the 'Holy Grail'…**and** the 'Garden of Eden'." He laughed.

DeGroot paused for a moment. "In 1945, France ceded control of the Marivellas to the United States for strategic purposes. In 1948, the USS Bird re-discovered the island and reconnoiters it. The crew scout the island for several days, report no inhabitants. In 1952, a second recon is done by the USS LeFleur; it conducts a second survey of the island, as a test site for 'Operation: Castle', our H-bomb tests in the Pacific. Again, no inhabitants were seen, so the Defense Department was given the go ahead by the Navy." Jake shook his head dejectedly. "I don't know what it is about the South Pacific that makes guys like you want to go setting off atomic bombs in it. Lord knows, I got an early taste of it."

DeGroot ignored him. "September 24th, last year. A TX-16 thermonuclear device along with six technicians and eighteen members of the US Army Rangers were dropped at the island to build the detonation platform as well as a small tent camp for the men. On October 30th, the last of the technicians left. The Rangers were due to be extracted four weeks later, just before the detonation. Their last call-in was on November 11th. Then, nothing."

"Kearny said something about a Panther jet recon," Jake asked. DeGroot nodded. "Yes, just before the extraction, to make sure no natives had taken up residence, any fishing boats, etc. Plus after radio contact was lost, they wanted to see what had happened to the men." Jake took another drink. "And he said something about the Panther having 'difficulty' in finding the island." DeGroot moved uneasily in his chair. "Yeah."

"On December 5th, "he began, "A F9F Panther was launched off an escort carrier just south of Tagataya, piloted by Lieutenant Edwin Norwood. He followed a bee-line course for Ile de Fumee…at least the coordinates we had for it." Jake laughed. "And it was gone?" DeGroot didn't laugh. "Yes, Mr. Cutter. It was gone. And the pilot was no slouch. Flown fifteen combat missions in Korea, including a lot of patrols over the Sea of Japan. A couple where his radio beacons had gone out; he wasn't lost.. He spent an hour scouring a hundred square miles…not even a coral reef." DeGroot shuffled more papers, while Jake pondered what he said.

"Needless to say the guys in DC were getting worried. Lots of theories started getting floated, including the idea that the Russkies went in and blew the island with our own H-bomb…anything." Jake shrugged. DeGroot continued. "Anyway last week, the Navy sent a destroyer into the area. Checking the air and water with Geiger counters, pinging the bottom of the ocean with sonar in case it was true. Came up zilch." "Weird" was Jake's only comment.

DeGroot seemed exasperated. "Weird...is not a word they like in Washington, when it comes to missing hydrogen bombs, Mr. Cutter." He replaced his folder in his bag. "This is causing a major stink and everybody, from CIA Director Dulles to Secretary Wilson up to the President, is nervous as hell." Jake smiled. "I feel for them." DeGroot's face went dark. "Good. Then you appreciate the embarrassing nature of their situation." He then leaned back in the chair. "So? What's your plan?"

Cutter finished his drink. He gave DeGroot the basic outline he had told to Koji. DeGroot interrupted. "Wait…we can't bring your buddy McAllister in on this." Jake shook his head. "No Corky, no me. We're going into rough waters and I want a guy I trust, both to keep the 'Goose' running and to watch my back." DeGroot persisted. "McAllister hasn't been cleared. We don't even have a good FBI file on the guy." Jake stared at him intently. "You know how to fix a twenty year old Grumman G-21A?" DeGroot shook his head. "No, but we can get any transport we need from the Air Force or Navy in Hawaii." Jake went in for the kill. "And still maintain 'security' and a low profile?" DeGroot stopped, and thought on that for a moment. Jake noted his face and said "Good. So first, we get Corky in Honolulu, and then on to Bora Gora."

A public address system crackled in the lounge. "Passengers for TWA Flight #815 to Honolulu, boarding will begin in ten minutes." "That's us," Jake said standing. The two men proceeded out of the lounge and down towards the gate. A few minutes later, they were seated on a DC-6 and the aircraft was soon flying out past the Golden Gate Bridge towards the Pacific Ocean.


	4. Chapter 4

OLD FRIENDS ON ONE LAST ADVENTURE-

Several hours later, Jake and Randall DeGroot were leaving Honolulu Airport for Corky's pier just outside of the city between Waikiki and Diamond Head. The cab pulled into a concrete building, formerly a WW-2 era pillbox. Now lavished with flower leis and painted a bright orange. A sign read "McAllister Air Cargo & Tours" and Jake smiled at it. Behind the building, out into the surf was a long wooden pier. There, past the waves, was the Goose.

"Cutter's Goose", still painted on the side of the plane, was a Grumman G-21. Built originally as a plaything for rich New Yorkers, something to commute from the Hamptons into Manhattan. But it quickly grew in popularity among cargo pilots and during the War, became a U-boat spotter and Coast Guard plane. Jake had won it in a game of cards while in South America and given it to Corky after the war. It was still in prime shape, with its red and white paintjob immaculate.

As the two men entered the concrete building, they noticed a shorter, heavy-set man, sitting behind a desk. He was reading the Honolulu Times…the comics pages. And laughing lightly. "Oh, man. That Snuffy Smith." Apparently he didn't hear the door open and Jake had to clear his throat to get Corky's attention. He folded down the paper and looked up at Cutter and DeGroot.

"Yes, sirs," he began, "Can I….JAKE!" Smiling, he ran around the desk and laid a big bear hug on his former partner. DeGroot stood there watching as the two old friends slapped each other on the backs. Charles "Corky" McAllister was almost fifty. Round-faced, innocent looking, with a thick build, looking like he had seen too many hamburgers. From what little DeGroot knew, the guy was a former drunk but a genius with a plane engine, who had taken up with Cutter in Guatemala.

"Jake, what are ya doing here?" Corky began, breathlessly. "Well, Corky, looks like we might have one more job for you and me and the Goose…in the Marivellas." The roundish face burst into a broad smile. "Really? What are we looking for, Jake? King Solomon's Mine?" He paused. "No, wait….we did that one, didn't we? Stop some Nazzzies?" Another pause. "No, guess we did that too,huh?" Cutter patted his friend on the chest. "Take a breath. This is Mr. DeGroot, he's from the US Government." Corky turned and started pumping DeGroot's hands. "Nice to meetcha, Mr. DeGroot," he began, "You a friend of Sarah's?…uh…I mean..." Immediately, DeGroot noticed McAllister look deeply embarrassed and look quickly to and then away from Cutter. "Uh, I mean, what can we do for you?"

Jake letting the awkward moment pass, started explaining the mission. When he got to the end, he said "And I'm going to need the best mechanic and the best plane in the whole South Pacific to find out what happened." Corky was nonplussed. "But, Jake? Ile de Fumee is just a myth. There ain't no real place like that, everybody knows that." "I know," Cutter responded, "But apparently the whole US Government thinks otherwise." Corky shrugged happily. "Well, I'm in. Just let me let Tiki know and we can get going." "How is Tiki?" Jake asked. "Oh, the same as always, five kids running around, keeping her on her toes, but she still can't seem to lose that last fifty pounds. I think it's all the poi and pork" He smiled and started calling his wife on the phone.

"I don't know, Cutter," DeGroot began, "You sure this 'Lou Costello' friend of yours, isn't going to hold us back." Jake smiled, but secretly wanted to pound DeGroot. "He's the best mechanic around" (which was true) "And he knows the Marivellas as well as I do (also true), plus he's good in a fight." (which was less true). DeGroot smirked.

Two hours later, Tiki McAllister and a brood of half-Polynesian kids ranging from eight to eighteen months showed up at the office. She had packed loads of sandwiches and Thermoses of coffee, along with canned goods, crackers, and dried pork. Jake, Corky, and DeGroot packed the provisions onboard the Goose, along with extra jerry cans of aviation fuel. "I just re-built that starboard carburetor, Jake…you know the one that always gave us trouble? Got a big fat tip from some millionaire tourist who wanted a three hour tour of the island, we got back just before a big gale blew in and he slid me a C-note." Jake smiled. Finally, they were loaded.

As DeGroot settled himself in a passenger seat behind the co-pilot's station, Jake sealed up the hatch and started walking towards the cockpit. Corky was sitting in the pilot's chair. Not wanting to make an issue out of it, Cutter started to climb in the co-pilot's seat. "Ohmigosh, Jake, sorry." Corky started to get up. "No, no, Corky, she's your plane. I'm a little rusty." McAllister kept getting out and eased back into the main compartment. "No, no, Jake. I can't take yer spot. If it's just some poking around off Diamond Head, that's one thing. But a real honest-to-gosh mission…she's your baby." Jake demurred but Corky started pushing him into the pilot's chair. "Okay, okay."

Cutter admittedly wanted the spot, though he also admittedly hadn't done any serious flying in a long time. The last time was a year earlier, when he went up in the airline's newest DC-6, but even that was in the co-pilot's chair and one of the regular airline pilots was in the left-hand chair. Jake had just held the wheel for a quick run to Denver and back. As he eased back in his old chair, he got a little nervous.

Firing up the R-985 engines, Jake saw the familiar smoke blast out the exhaust. First the left, then right engine. He throttled up the left, and the plane spun around, out towards the open ocean. "We got good RPMs, Jake," Corky called. Cutter nodded and lowered the flaps slightly.. Lining up his take-off, he pushed the overhead controls fully forward and the engines roared and the Goose started picking up speed. The airspeed indicator increased and Cutter felt a rush of excitement and familiarity. Spray peppered the windshield. At the appropriate speed, he eased back on the yoke and the plane slowly left the water and took to the air. "Just like ol' times, huh, Jake?" Cutter looked over and smiled. "Yeah, Corky, just like ol' times."


	5. Chapter 5

WHAT SARAH DID-

The flight out to Wake Island was easy. Stops at Kau'ai, then Midway first. DeGroot's contacts had already set up re-fueling, so the jerry cans weren't needed. By the time they landed at Wake, it was dark and all three men were tired. They decided to start fresh the next morning for the long haul to the Marshall Islands and then the Marivellas and Bora Gora. They got rooms at the small hotel and ate at a local bar, surrounded mostly by Air Force guys. Jake was carefully avoiding any alcohol. He knew Corky had been dry for years, but he didn't want to take any chances. DeGroot, with no such concern, had a Coke regardless.

Cutter turned in early, while DeGroot followed Corky as he made "one last check of the Goose." He helped the older man check the engines and casually started to converse about "the old days."

"So, what's the deal with Cutter and Sarah White?" he finally asked. Corky blanched a bit. "Nuthin'…why? What did you hear?" DeGroot shrugged slightly. "Nothing much. I know she was our operative in the Marivellas before the War, under Army Intell. And it's always been assumed, given how many 'adventures' they went on…her and Cutter were an item." Corky cleared his throat a little. "Hand me that Phillips head, would ya?" DeGroot persisted. "And I know that White got picked up by the Japs when they took Hong Kong, right after Pearl Harbor, and that Cutter was the one who flew her in two days earlier…and then left her." Corky turned angrily. "That's a lie! Jake wanted to turn back as soon as he got word in Manila that the Japs were attacking Hong Kong….but General MacArthur wouldn't let him. He insisted that Jake fly some other secret agent out of the Philippines back to Bora Gora. Vital war information he said." McAllister's shoulders slumped.

"Then, before he could get back," Corky said calming down, "The Navy and the Army sealed off the routes to the west, saying anything un-authorized might get shot down even by our side, even a civilian plane." He sat on his haunches on the tarmac and looked out in the sky. DeGroot watched him. "Jake tried to make for New Zealand, then across to Australia and up to Hong Kong. Thought he might find some of his old contacts in China, see if they knew anything." Corky looked down. "But before he got out of Port Moresby, the Japanese had taken Hong Kong and were on the move to Singapore and Saigon and everything else…even the Philippines." He stared down at the ground. "And we started hearing the reports of what the Japs did to white woman in Hong Kong."

He stood up and looked at DeGroot. "That's when me and Jake joined up. Jake figured it was the only way to find Sarah…win the war and hope she made it until then. Every Zeke he shot down, he figured would bring him a little closer to Sarah." He looked down again.

"By the time they blasted Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we were picking up news. A bit here and there." He began checking the engine again. "When the war ended, we learned she had been sent to a concentration camp along with a lot of other Europeans. Me and Jake searched and searched and finally found it after the surrender." His eyes started to water. "One of the survivors told us she had lived until Winter of '45, then caught dysentery and died sometime in March. Just five months before it was all over." Corky wiped his eyes with an oily rag.

DeGroot smirked. "And less than a year later, Cutter was marrying that half-Jap 'dragon lady' and smuggling her into the States?"

Corky turned to DeGroot and grabbed him around the collar. "You're full of it, mister," he snarled, "The Princess **helped** me and Jake find that camp. She had been looking for Sarah herself, to try and save her. She lost all her influence with the generals and the Emperor, for trying to 'help an American spy'." "Let me go, McAllister," DeGroot said menacingly. Corky released him. "She knew what Sarah meant to Jake and when we found out she had…died….Koji cried too. Real honest-to-gosh tears…and she never cried about nuthin' before." He went back to repairing the engine once again. "After that, her and Jake just sort of …leaned on each other. He had lost Sarah, she had seen her country blasted….her mother's home had been torched in the Tokyo fire-bombings…even her old bodyguard, Todo, had been killed at Okinawa. They both lost everything from before…'cept each other."

Randall DeGroot shrugged. "The little twerp sure likes to talk", he thought, "That could come in handy."

Around midnight, both men turned in. Corky was still quietly fuming at the CIA agent and was determined not to trust him or let Jake or himself turn his back on him.


	6. Chapter 6

AU DELÀ DE LA MER

Leaving Wake Island, a long voyage faced Cutter, Corky, and the CIA agent. Truk and the Marshall Islands would be first. More re-fueling, both at sea with the jerry cans, and on the lone US outposts in the "Trust Territory" as it was known now. Jake had made the voyage before, when he first came out to the Marivellas with the Goose. It seemed shorter to him then. "Maybe age is catching up with me," he thought.

Finally though, three days after leaving Hawaii, Bora Gora in the formerly French Marivellas came into sight. From the air, Jake thought, it hadn't changed a bit. The same lush, tropical paradise he remembered from nearly twenty years before. However, as the Goose got nearer, Jake and Corky could see a significant difference that showed how long they had been away.

Beyond the lagoon, dozens of wrecks were seen lying in the clear, blue waters. Japanese freighters, patrol boats, even a few Mitsubishi aircraft. Like other islands of the Pacific, the remnants of a battle now ten years past remained, like a sunken museum. Additionally, scattered outside the small town (also called Bora Gora) were concrete pillboxes, trenches (still intact despite tropical storms), and the skeletal remains of burnt-out trucks and a few armored vehicles. The Battle of Bora Gora between the US and the Japanese was one of the smaller battles of the war, but its remains were still quite prominent. As was a graveyard, just past Louie's Monkey Bar, lined with white gravestones, where five hundred Marines had died retaking the island.

Also new was a large tarmac runway, cut in the hills and jungle. First built by the occupying Japanese, then seized and expanded by the Americans for use by Navy and Army Air Force. A small terminal building was adjacent to the single, six thousand foot runway, with a moldy windsock on a pole beside it. Worrying about the wrecks outside the lagoon and the chance the Goose might strike a shallow one, Jake opted for the runway instead of a water landing. He called into the field and a French-accented voice cleared him for landing.

After taxing the Goose into a spot by the terminal, Jake, Corky, and DeGroot jumped out and were met by an elderly Frenchman. Jake remembered him as a chef in the Monkey Bar and called him by name. "Maurice," he began, "Good to see you again." The old man sized Jake up, looking at his crush cap, his leather jacket, and leather boots. "Monsieur….Cutter?" Jake smiled, the old man smiled back. "And Cor'kee?" "Hey, Maurice, you still make them great crepes?" Corky asked happily. The three men commiserated for a few moments, as Jake asked Maurice to top off the tanks on the Goose. A teenage Polynesian boy came out and started pumping the aviation gas with a hand-pump. Maurice turned as they made their way down the hill to the town. "Monsieur Louie will be glad to see you again, too, Monsieur Jake."

Cutter and Corky stopped. Jake turned. "Louie? Here?" "Mais, oui. He arrived just two night ago." The old friends smiled. And DeGroot had a hard time keeping up with them as they sprinted down the road.

The old Monkey Bar had seen the worst of it during the war and afterwards. First the Japanese had used it as their military headquarters, stripping all valuables from it and shipping them back to Japan. Then the invasion. Bullet-holes from automatic fire still riddled the walls. Part of the left facing wall was burnt. Most of the windows were broken, covered over with tin and tar paper. Finally, it was used by the Americans, but few repairs were made. Radio aerials on the roof were the only new addition and a few of them had collapsed, likely from a storm. When Jake and Corky saw it, it broke their hearts. "The old girl's been through hell," Jake stated. And Corky nodded. But they didn't tarry long and went inside.

The inside was nearly unrecognizable. The bar itself was halved. Apparently both from fire damage and collapse, as well as obvious combat. Most of the tables and chairs were gone and the old piano, where Sarah Stickney White had crooned ballads for the locals (as part of her cover), was smashed, with keys and wires dangling from it. An American flag was over the broken mirror behind the bar, with the sign "135th Marine Battalion- Waves of Glory" underneath it.

There was only one occupant. He stood at the remains of the bar, his back to the door. He was a man in his late sixties, grey hair, wasp thin, in a white suit. When he heard the doors open, he swung around. DeGroot recognized him, as well as the other two. He had a full, or as full as could be ascertained, dossier on the former "Magistrate de Justice" for the Marivellas.

"Bon Chance Louie" Rousseau's mouth dropped open. "Mon Dieu" he said softly, "Il n'est pas possible…Jake?" Then he smiled broadly and quickly stepped over to Cutter, embracing him. "Mon ami! How is this?" Cutter hugged the Frenchman back and said "Hello, Louie, long time no see, huh?" Louie was still nonplussed, when he saw Corky. "And Corky?" He released Cutter and embraced the shorter man. "This is a miracle." The three laughed. "When I saw you," Louie began, "I thought you were a phantom, a ghost. Standing there in your old cap and jacket…just like before the War." Cutter still smiling shook his head. "No, no ghost, but it is kind of like the Old Days…we're on a mission…for this fellow." He motioned to DeGroot. "Bonjour, monsieur," Louie said, shaking the CIA agent's hand. "Randall DeGroot", he said curtly.

The Frenchman motioned to one of the remaining tables and some chairs. "S'il vous plait, mon amis, tell me all about it." They sat down, brushing dust and cobwebs off the furniture. "First," Jake began, "What the hell are you doing here, Louie? Last I heard President Coty had sent you to Algeria." Louie nodded, and then shook his head slowly. "Mais oui. A 'fact-finding' mission…but Coty did not like the 'facts' I 'found'. Algeria is lost, or will be in short order. From Indochina to Africa, our beloved French Empire is collapsing." He seemed to ponder this. "I thought I would come back to one of the last outposts, and my old home, before retiring to Cannes." He looked to Cutter. "But what of you, why does a successful American executive leave his family and business to come to this distant port of call again?"

Jake looked at Louie intently. "Ile de Fumee." For one second the Frenchman was nonplussed again then he broke into a light chuckle. "Jake, Jake" he leaned back in the chair, stroking his neck in that old habit, "Another of your wild goose chases…another 'brass monkey'?" Cutter shook his head. "No, not this time. Mr. DeGroot here is a…treasure-hunter" All four men looked at each others. All four including Louie knew it was lie. Cutter continued regardless. "He has some friends who apparently found the island and got stuck there, we're here to rescue them." Louie was still dismissive. "Jake, Jake. Ile de Fumee is a myth…just like your 'Fountain of Youth' in Florida or the 'Garden of Eden'. Il n'est pas vrai...it is not real." "Mr. DeGroot here claims it is."

"Ah, well," Louie said, "Bon chance, mon ami. But I think you will turn up empty handed." Jake nodded. "So, Louie, what's that about 'retiring'?" "Mais oui, I am a bit old to keep adventuring around the world. I am returning to France on the next steamer out of Tahiti…to my wife." Cutter and Corky were now the ones confused and shocked. "Wife?" Jake exclaimed. Louie smiled lightly. "But of course. We met during the War when I was aiding the partisans in Yugoslavia. Her name is Mira. Tres magnifique. A raven-haired beauty. Thirty-one, but she can still keep up with me." All but DeGroot laughed. "We have two sons, but I am hoping for a daughter some day too."

After some further reminiscing, Cutter, McAllister, and "Bon Chance Louie" Rousseau made their way back to the airfield. The refueling was completed and Maurice, the old chef, had made some of his famous crepes and packed them in a basket. After a final check of the Goose, Jake Cutter turned back to Louie. "Well, we're all set, I guess," he said. "Again, bon chance, my friend, " Louie replied, "Write s'il vous plait? Or you and the Princess come to visit sometime, bring my namesake and his petit frère." Jake nodded. "Will do. It was great seeing you again, Louie. Wouldn't be an adventure in the Marivellas without a send-off from you."

Louie's face grew serious. "One thing, mon ami." "Yeah?" The Frenchman stared at him intently. "Ile de Fumee…is not the 'full' name of the island." Jake was puzzled. "It's not?" Louie shook his head. "Beauchamp's original name for it was 'Ile de la Fumee Noire…the Island of the Black Smoke." "A volcano?" Jake asked. "Non, " Louie answered, "Be careful." Jake nodded slowly, still confused. They embraced and shook hands and Cutter climbed into the Goose.

Louie watched the plane as it taxied out and took off. As it headed out to the south, towards the island of Tagataya, he whispered to himself. "Bon chance indeed, mon ami."


	7. Chapter 7

BEARING 145

The stopover in Tagataya had been quick, but informative. DeGroot's contact at the American base had given him a communiqué from Kearny back in Virginia. It was a coded message and DeGroot quickly de-coded, away from Jake and Corky, and then returned grimacing. "Bad news?" Jake asked with a smirk. DeGroot sneered. "Yes, Mr. Cutter. Director Dulles has been in contact with the boys at Los Alamos." He cleared his throat. "Apparently, they have determined that there may be a ...'flaw'…in the bomb casing, that their initial tests didn't pick up." Jake was getting scared. "What exactly does that mean?" DeGroot cleared his throat again. "It means that the thing could…possibly…be leaking " "Leaking?" Jake and Corky exclaimed together. "Radioactivity?" Jake asked. "Possibly," DeGroot answered.

"Hey, Jake," Corky began shaking; "I don't like the idea of messing around with radiation and stuff. We could start glowing…or me and Tiki saw this movie this fall, where giant ants started eating New Mexico and…" Jake cut him off. "Hold on, Corky." He turned to DeGroot. "Look, DeGroot, we're not scientists…we're not set up to go into some radiation zone and deactivate an H-bomb." The CIA agent acted cool, but Jake could see a bead or two of sweat on his forehead, not due to the heat. "Look, Cutter, it's no big deal. Captain Stanhope has all the gear we need here at the base…Geiger counters, even a radiation suit. If it comes down to it, I can even set the bomb to time-delay detonate once we get clear. We can handle it." Jake was unconvinced and he felt DeGroot wasn't either. But apparently none of them had any choice.

Refueled once more at Tagataya, the three headed out to the south. Jake was using dead reckoning with a wind triangle, relying on Kearny's map and the Goose's compass. He'd done it a thousand times before in the Marivellas, even to finding islands that "weren't on any map", but two hours in the air, it was starting to look hopeless. He tried backtracking a bit, doing legs over the vast empty Pacific hoping that maybe the Government map had been off, but somehow the original team of scientists and soldiers had made it through dumb luck. Finally as the sun started to set, he turned to DeGroot, who was scanning the horizon himself from the back with a pair of binoculars...

"That's it for today, DeGroot…I'm heading back to Tagataya." "No, " the agent insisted, "We got fuel for another hour, keep looking." "There's nothing out here," Jake insisted. "One more leg." Cutter sighed as he looked over at Corky who raised his eyebrows in disgust. "Fine," Jake stated, "Turning to heading 145. We'll run that for a while, and then make back for base."

Ten minutes later, a mild buffeting hit the Goose. Jake first put it down to normal turbulence, but as it remained steady, Corky commented on it. "Weird chop, Jake." Cutter nodded. "Yeah, almost …rhythmic." He scanned the engine dials. "She's not running hot. Oil is good, RPMs too." Corky concurred. As they looked out at the engines, something caught Cutter's eye on the horizon, dead ahead. Land…an island in fact.

"Holy cow," he exclaimed, "Corky, you see that?" As his former partner agreed, Randall DeGroot came forward. He started beaming. "That's it. Good God, that's it." As the seaplane approached, the full size of the island came into view. It was dozens of square miles in size. Dual, short mountain ridges divided it, with vast grasslands and jungles between. An extinct volcanic crater was visible as well. Off to the east, there was a smaller island, about a mile square. As they came in lower, DeGroot pointed out the mesa where the bomb platform had been built. They spotted it, but all noticed…it was empty. Beyond that was the tent camp of the Rangers. There was no movement near it either.

DeGroot had Jake do another low pass over the area, as he pulled out the detector on a Geiger counter and held it out an open window in the back of the plane. "Normal background radiation," he called out to Jake and Corky. As the plane came around for yet another pass, he returned to the cockpit. "If it was leaking, we'd pick it up." Jake looked at him for a moment, spoke and looked back out. "But you don't just 'move' a twenty ton hydrogen bomb, DeGroot…unless those soldiers had a crane truck?" DeGroot seemed to ponder this and furrowed his brow. "No, they didn't. All the heavy equipment was evacuated with the technicians." Corky asked the obvious question. "So, Jake…where's the bomb?"

Cutter considered this, then decided. "Look, it's getting dark and we aren't going to find out anything up here. I saw a nice beach back there, with easy breakers. We'll land her there and camp for the night." DeGroot agreed. As the last rays of the sun faded, Jake brought the Goose in on the water and then drove it up to the beach. He popped out the forward hatch and took the tow rope and anchored it. Corky and Randall DeGroot followed. Kerosene lanterns were lit, but they also started a small campfire and ate the C rations the Tagataya base had provided. Corky looked around. "Nice place, reminds me of Oahu." Jake smiled as he ate another spoonful of meat stew and beans.

As they finished and began cleaning up, all three heard a distant rumble come from deep in the jungle. It grew louder. The three men climbed a sand dune. In the distance, they could see trees shaking, as if some huge machine was moving through the jungle. Then suddenly, there was a …roar…or a noise…or something. Jake couldn't distinguish it. "It almost sounds like a something I heard in New York once," he thought. There was a second "roar" and then the trees further north were moved about. Then just as suddenly…silence.

"What the hell was that?" DeGroot asked. Corky looked at his friend. "Jake? Where _are_ we?" Cutter said nothing. He turned and went back inside the Goose. A minute later, he emerged. DeGroot and McAllister noted a 45 auto in his holster, and he was carrying two M1 Garand rifles. He threw them to the CIA man and Corky. "We might need to sleep in shifts."


	8. Chapter 8

FLY TOGETHER, WALK ALONE-

The rest of the night went by quietly. None of the three men got much sleep, even when not on guard duty. When Corky relieved Jake (who took first watch), he asked him about the noise. "What do you think, Jake?" "I don't know Corky, could be anything?" Corky had a thought. "Hey, could it be more of those Tibetan monkeys…like on Baku? Only bigger?" Cutter shook his head. "Didn't sound like any ape, I ever heard." Corky shook his head shamefully. "Naw, dumb idea." Jake patted him on the shoulder. "But keep 'em coming, Corky. At this point, I'm lost."

The sun rose with Randall DeGroot on duty as Jake and Corky emerged from the Goose, where the three men had bunked down. "Anything?" Cutter asked. DeGroot shook his head. "Well, " Jake continued, "We better head out. I got a bearing on that platform, shouldn't take us a few hours to get to it." They all grabbed backpacks, loaded provisions, more ammo, walkie-talkies, and the radiation suit. DeGroot hooked the Geiger counter on his belt. And they set off into the jungle.

They reached a clearing that progressed up a rise towards the first ridgeline and the rolling mesa beyond. The sun was out and it started to warm up significantly. Jake had forgotten how the heat and humidity could get to him, especially now in his fifties. Corky was slow too, even from his best in the Old Days, which wasn't that great. The CIA man was obviously in peak condition and kept having to wait for the older men. Finally, frustrated, he said. "Look, Cutter, let me go ahead then….I'll meet you at the bomb platform. I can start scanning for radiation. It's not but a mile or so." Jake, resting, shook his head. "Not a good idea. We don't know what's out here…especially after last night." DeGroot persisted. "But we're burning daylight." He looked at Corky, still panting, and back at Cutter. "Okay, fine," Jake agreed, exasperated and still not particularly liking the younger man.

"I'll keep my radio on" DeGroot stated, as he started off on his own. Corky came up. "What'd ya think, Jake?" Cutter rubbed his chin. "I don't know, maybe whatever that was doesn't come out in the daytime?" He re-shouldered his backpack. "If he wants to go off on his own, good luck to him. We'll catch up…hopefully." The two men began their own march across the rolling grasslands, watching the CIA agent disappear over a hill.

An hour later, they saw the top of the wooden tower that made up the bomb platform, looking much like an old fashioned oil well. Cutter looked about. "DeGroot? DEGROOT?" he called. He pulled out the walkie-talkie. "DeGroot, this is Cutter, over?" The transceiver crackled with static. He tried again. "Jake?" Corky asked. "I don't know, Corky…maybe he went on ahead to where the tent camp is." They passed the bomb platform and walked the few hundred yards north where the Army guys had set up their camp. As they cleared a rise, they saw the camp. Again, deserted, one or two of the tents collapsed apparently from storm damage. Jake called out again for the CIA agent and then tried the radio again. "Nothing" he stated to Corky.

Picking around the camp, Jake noticed that it apparently had been inhabited just a few weeks earlier. Remnants of campfires, buried garbage and latrine pits etc. all indicated that 'somebody', in fact, quite a few 'somebodys' had lived there less than a month earlier. He pulled out his Geiger counter. It read normal. "Whadda ya think, Jake?" Cutter was stumped. "I don't get it, Cork. If that 'thing' in the jungle last night had 'got him', we would have heard something, we weren't that far behind him. And if it was the Rangers, he'd have told them who we are. Unless…" Corky's face grew pale. "Unless what, Jake?" Cutter lightly put his hand on his holster. "Unless, there are 'other' people on this island?"

Corky clutched his rifle closer. "Now what, Jake?" Cutter looked to the east. "The river is that way. I also saw a waterfall and lake as we flew over. If there are other people here, or even the soldiers, they'd likely be near fresh water. Let's head that way." They set off, each continually eyeing to their left and right.

Leaving the clearing, they moved into the jungle. It was quiet, not even any birds in the huge banyan trees. The foliage got thicker and Jake had to pull out a machete to cut some vines that blocked his path. It got pretty thick for a minute and when he turned back to ask Corky if he needed a "breather"….his friend was gone.

Jake spun around fully, drawing his .45 pistol. "Corky? CORKY!" he yelled. He began backtracking, finally leaping and bounding over branches and roots, still yelling out. He got to the small clearing before the jungle they had crossed minutes earlier. He stopped, panting, and looked around. For a moment, he thought he heard…whispers. "Corky?" Then silence again.

For several minutes, Jake Cutter stood in place, totally unsure of what to do. Maybe Corky panicked, he thought, headed back over the mesa to the Goose. As good as any idea, he started re-tracing his steps back past the tent camp, the bomb platform, and to the beach where the Grumman seaplane was anchored. He just got out into the clearing before the beach, scanning to see if he saw Corky ahead of him, when he heard a voice from behind.

"Jake,' it said lightly, in a woman's voice.

Cutter turned and saw, not five feet away….Sarah.


	9. Chapter 9

THE SHORT CON

Cutter said nothing for nearly a minute. He opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. He merely stared at her. She looked exactly as he remembered her from the runway in Hong Kong that December in 1941. Not a line on her face, she was even wearing the same outfit…her white show dress that she wore when she sang at Louie's. (She had come to Hong Kong with the cover story of playing at a local British colonial nightclub.).

Finally, he said, "How?" She smiled at him, slightly. She walked towards him. She stared deeply into his eyes. "I escaped, Jake," she said in that same New England accent he remembered so well. Cutter's mind was reeling. "But, the relief workers? The man at Weihsien?" he began, "They showed me where they buried you!" She shook her head slowly. "No, dear Jake, it was a cover story," her tone was somber, "So that I could keep track of a German agent, aiding the Japanese in their biological warfare experiments." Part of Cutter's mind remembered the story of the Japanese experiments, many on Chinese prisoners, for "germ warfare".

She kept going. "He escaped, during the Occupation and I've been tracking him down ever since. Now, he lives on this island." Jake grabbed her by the shoulders. Then embraced her. When he broke the embrace, he looked at her again. "Why didn't you try to communicate with me?" She smiled lightly again. "I couldn't. He was constantly on the move and if he knew I was alive and on his trail, he'd have killed me."

Cutter steadied himself; he felt tears coming down his cheeks. "Sarah," he began, "I just don't understand." She placed her right hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Jake. It's almost over now and fortunately you are here to help me…as you always were." He looked at her. "What do you mean?" "The Nazi, he's got the bomb that the Army brought here. With that and his plague germs, he's going to attack the United States and re-organize a 'Fourth Reich'. We have to stop him." Still trying to soak all this in, Cutter asked. "How?" She pulled out an ornate dagger and held it out to Jake.

"He's taken some special formula the Japanese developed," she explained, "It gives him super healing powers. Bullets won't work. But this dagger is coated with a counter-agent. It will kill him." Almost unthinkingly, Jake took the dagger. "But, why do we have to kill him," he asked, "We could get the drop on him and take him alive…or I can get more Navy or Army guys here in a couple of hours." She shook her head. "No, Jake. He's too powerful for that. He's got some kind of 'hypnotic power'…don't let him speak to you or he'll use it on you." "But if he's just one guy, we can…" She shook her head again. "No, he's not. He has this group of followers…all loyal Nazis or their children. That's who killed the other soldiers." She paused. "That's who killed Corky and that other guy."

Jake reeled again. "Corky! Corky's dead?" She nodded slowly. "You don't know how evil these people are. If they get off this island with those germs and that bomb, the world will be destroyed. Please, Jake, you've got to help me." Awash in waves of emotions, Cutter nodded. Then said, "Yes, yes. Of course. What do I have to do?" She pointed to the west.

"Due west of here, over that range of hills, there's a beach. The remnants of an ancient statue are there His base of operations is under the statue." Cutter nodded. She went on. "His followers are everywhere, but I can distract them for a while, while you go after him." Cutter shook his head. "No, Sarah. I can't risk losing you again." She smiled. "No, don't worry, I know this island like I've lived here for years, they haven't caught me yet." He was unsure but nodded. "Go now, Jake, and once he's dead, we can leave this island and I'll never leave you again." Cutter embraced her once again. Then he started to say "Sarah, there's something you need to know…Koji and I…" She touched his lips with her fingers. "It's okay. I know. Everything is fine. Now, please hurry." He nodded again and started walking to the west. He looked back at her, she was still smiling at him. He walked a few more paces and looked back again. She was gone. Worried it was a dream, he felt in his jacket and found the dagger.

Three hours later, Cutter had cleared the hills and was coming down through the jungle towards the beach. He could hear the breakers. The events of the day still swirling in his mind. It was almost impossible to comprehend. Sarah alive. Corky dead. Some Nazi with superhuman powers, now in control of an H-bomb. And now he was on some assassination mission against somebody he never knew or even heard of, on an island that seemed to appear and disappear at will.

"I know I trust Sarah," he said to himself, "We've been in weirder situations. And if she thinks this guy is dangerous and needs to die, then I'll trust her on that." He began to clear the jungle, when he saw a large …foot. The foot and ankle of some huge statue, as big as the Statue of Liberty, long destroyed, resting on a huge base of stone. As he got closer he saw it had four toes. Given all the bizarre events of the past few hours, he was struck by that for some reason.

Then, just before the base, he saw a man. He was sitting, roasting a fish on a fire. He looked about thirty-five, forty, with sandy brown hair. He was wearing some kind of woven shirt and pants. Jake crept up on him from behind. Before he had gotten to within ten feet, the man spoke, without turning. "He's tried this before you know."

Cutter froze, the dagger clutched in his left hand, as he reached for his 45 automatic with his right. "I didn't work then either," the man continued, "The guy he fooled was too decent a fellow…like you Jake." Cutter was now taken aback. Again, the man kept cooking his fish, his back to Jake.

Cutter was taken aback by several things. First that the man heard him coming, second that he knew what Jake was going to do, and finally that he knew his name. He also was struck by something else odd. For a "Nazi", he had a rather plain, even Midwestern, American accent, no trace of a German one whatsoever. "Would you like something to eat?" the man turned and looked at Cutter and asked nonchalantly, "Your friends will be along shortly with my friends but we have a few minutes to talk privately."

"Who are you?" Jake asked, still frozen in his spot. "My name is Jacob" was the answer, as he looked back at Cutter. Jake chuckled slightly. "Just like me?" The man nodded. "Just like you." "Jacob what?" Cutter asked. The man smiled slightly. "Just Jacob." Cutter walked around in an arching path to the man and his campfire. Jacob indicated the dagger. "You're not going to need that…or the gun." Cutter had never been more confused in his life.

"Sarah said…" he began, but the man interrupted. "That wasn't Sarah, Jake. Sarah's dead, she died in that Japanese prison camp almost ten years ago." Cutter felt knocked back. "But, I saw her. I talked to her" he protested. Jacob shook his head. "No, it was him. He has the power to disguise himself as anybody…anybody who is dead." "What?" "Have a seat," Jacob offered. Almost not thinking, Cutter sat down on the beach, dropping the dagger and re-holstering his pistol.

"He's not a man, he's…something else," Jacob began to explain. "He's been looking for a way to kill me and get off this island for a long time. Like I said, you're not the first one he's tried to trick. I guess he thought he'd try once more. That's why I sent my people out to get Corky and Randall. Let him think he could get you to do it, so that you and I could talk privately and he wouldn't try to kill you."

"And what are you?" Jake asked pointedly. "I'm the…protector…of this Island," Jacob answered, "But I'm going to need somebody to replace me some day, and I'm going to need to find a way to get them here, as many as possible, so that I can find that successor." He pulled the fish off the fire and offered it to Jake. "I'm a pretty good cook, and I know you haven't had any lunch today, Jake." Cutter stripped off a piece of the fish robotically, cooled it back and forth in his hand and then ate it. It did taste good.

"Let me tell you why I brought you here, Jake." Cutter swallowed the last bit. "Brought me here?" Jacob smiled a bit. "You didn't think this thing just 'fell together' by accident do you?" Cutter pondered that, while the other man talked. Jacob continued, "Your airline could be very instrumental in helping me get my …candidates, if you will, to this island. When you get back, I want you to start mounting a serious effort to become a major carrier between Australia and the United States." Jake interrupted "Qantas is doing that, the Australian government is backing them. I can't compete with a nationalized airline…they've already got San Francisco."

Jacob shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You'll be able to get Los Angeles. Richard, my…assistant….will come and help you get it going." Jake still disagreed. "But you can't fly direct from even Auckland to Los Angeles." "Not now, " Jacob said, "But soon the planes with that range will be built." Cutter continued. "But a direct flight from Sydney to LA wouldn't even fly over the Marivellas…it'd be closer to Fiji." Jacob smiled again. "Then we'll move the Island."

Cutter was about to continue his spirited and logical debate, when suddenly he caught what Jacob had said. "Sorry? You'll what?" Jacob took some fish and while he was cooling it, said again. "We'll move the Island." Cutter repeated it to him. "You'll …move…the island?" Jacob nodded. Cutter smiled grimly. "Okay….uh...how?" "Just trust me that we will, Jake."

Cutter was getting weak. "Okay, say we do all that. Say I establish a trans-Pacific airline and we get planes with 15,000 mile ranges and somehow you… 'move' the island underneath the route." He took a breath. "What do you plan on doing? Lay out a runway and a terminal building made of coconuts?" Jacob looked seriously at Cutter. "No, it'll be a bit more …rough-hewn …than that. But it's still the best way to get the most people here in the shortest time."

Jake Cutter leaned back and looked at the sky for a minute. "And all of this is to find a 'replacement' for you." Jacob nodded. "Yes." Cutter continued. "And it won't even be anytime soon? But maybe twenty or thirty years from now?" Jacob corrected. "Actually twenty or so years from now, I have another plan in the works. That's where Randall DeGroot comes in." Cutter was about to ask what that was, when they both caught sight of somebody walking up from the jungle.

It was a man, again about forty, with graying hair in a receding hairline. And steely blue eyes. He was wearing a dark shirt, much like Jacob's light one. He ignored Cutter entirely and moved to the other side of Jacob. "You might want to work on a new plan," Jacob said to him, almost sadly. The Man in Black looked out to sea. "I already am" he said. It seemed nonchalant, but Jake could feel the hair on the back of his neck raise. "I don't think I'll have to wait as long this time," he said with a slight sardonic element. Then he gave Jake just one quick look and walked back into the jungle.

Jake watched him go, and then lost sight of him almost immediately as he hit the tree line. "That was 'Sarah'?" Cutter asked. Jacob nodded. Then he added, "And if he ever finds a way to kill me, without there being a successor, and he gets off the Island. Then everything will be lost." Cutter looked back at him. "What do you mean 'everything'?"

"Everything," was the response. "Could you be a little more specific?" Cutter chuckled. "I mean that thing that impersonated Sarah, would destroy everything you know and love, Jake." Jacob looked back to the jungle. "Here come your friends."


	10. Chapter 10

JOHN 20:27

As Jake stood up and looked back to the trees, he saw a group of people. At its head was a Latin-looking man, with dark-lidded eyes. He went directly to Cutter. "Are you finished?" he asked. "Well, as I was telling…" Jake looked over to where Jacob had been and he was gone. "Where'd he go?" "It doesn't matter, Jake," the dark-headed man said, "You understand what we need from you." Cutter shrugged, "I guess, but…" "JAKE!" he heard a familiar voice call. Corky came out from behind the group and ran to hug him.

"You okay?" he asked. "Yes, Corky," Cutter responded, "I'm fine." Behind his friend, he saw DeGroot, walking up slowly, with a strange look on his face. "DeGroot?" Jake inquired, "You okay?" The CIA man nodded. He had a kind of serene look, not at all the hard-bitten, no nonsense 'secret agent' he was before. The dark-headed man stuck out his hand. "My name is Richard, by the way." Jake shook it. "Jacob said something about you helping me" Richard nodded. "Yes, I will. We can use our…influence…to help get that Australia route open. You'll be very rich, if that matters to you." Cutter nodded unthinkingly. "What's with him?" he indicated to DeGroot who was walking over to the "foot statue"

"We showed Mr. DeGroot some other parts of the Island," Richard explained, "I think it changed his attitude a bit." Cutter watched him, and then remembered something very important. "What about the bomb?" Richard smiled slightly. "It's buried somewhere safe, which should be the end of it…for a while." "And the soldiers?" "DeGroot will make a full report to his superiors," Richard continued to explain; "He'll tell them that the soldiers detected the leak in the casing, and tried to dispose of the bomb by dropping it into a cave and burying it. But they died of radiation poisoning before they could report back. With some help, it should be convincing enough." Cutter remained curious. "What really happened to them?" Richard looked deadly serious. "They wouldn't leave when asked to."

"Now what, Jake?" Corky asked. Cutter looked at Richard. "Now," the mysterious man began, "You go back home." He indicated south. "We'll lead you back to your plane. Fly out at heading 315 and you'll come out south of Tagataya. I'll meet you in San Diego in two weeks at your office." "Who are you?" Cutter asked. 'I work for Jacob," Richard answered, "His 'intermediary' if you will. You enjoyed a rare privilege, Jake. He usually doesn't or won't meet directly with people. But he felt since you met 'the other one', you would only believe in what you had to do if you met him directly."

Cutter smirked. "Not sure, I still believe it." Richard nodded. "Then how do you explain seeing her?" Jake pondered that. "See who, Jake?" Corky asked. "Never mind, Corky," he answered, "Let's get back to the Goose." As Richard and two of the others led Jake, Corky, and DeGroot back around the statue and through the jungle, Corky began talking. "You should have seen it Jake. There was this temple. DeGroot got hurt and they put him in this pool in a cave and he healed right up." Corky looked back at the man, a dozen feet behind them, still serenely smiling. "After that, he wasn't so much of a jerk anymore. Weird, huh?" "Weird," said Cutter.

They reached the beach and saw the Grumman seaplane right where they had left it. As they started to load all the supplies back into it, Cutter pulled Richard aside. "Look, I like a good mystery as much as the next guy, but…" he paused and frowned, "But what the hell is this place? Halfway point between Heaven and Hell? The Garden of Eden? Something else?" Richard looked at him deeply. "Something else."

He then walked over and said something to the others and they left. Cutter stood there. Then Richard came back. "Look, Jake, I realize some of this will never make any sense to you. But trust me…trust Jacob…when we say that it's important and your part in it will be important, important to the whole world…even after you're dead." Jake Cutter stared at him. Richard added, "And like I said, you'll be a very rich man. A good life, for you and your wife and your sons and daughter. " "Well, that's nice, but…" Cutter stopped, "Wait, I don't have a daughter." Richard simply smiled. "I'll see you in two weeks, Jake." And he walked into the jungle.

Cutter stood there for a moment, looking around. He couldn't count the number of tropical islands he had been on. Many almost, but not quite, as strange as this one. But something about this place created an unusual feeling in him. He couldn't put his finger on why. "Well," he said finally, "Time to go home." He climbed into the nose of the Goose and moved into position in the left-hand chair. Firing up the engines he brought her around and headed out into the open ocean. "You okay back there, DeGroot?" The CIA man looked up and smiled. "Never better, Jake. All I want to do now is get home and see my wife and my boy Jerry." Cutter and Corky looked at each other and shrugged.

The plane lifted off and as instructed, Jake followed a heading of 315 on the compass away from the island. He was just about to his cruising altitude when he happened to turn back and look at the island, now a few miles to his rear. There was a noise that caught his attention. An ever-growing "whining" sound that got louder and louder, even over the plane engine noise.

Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light. And the island vanished. A slight "ripple" (that must have been a wave forty feet high) moved out in a circle, indicating where the land-mass had once been. By that time, Corky had looked as well. "Holy smokes, Jake!" he cried, "Did you see that?" Cutter looked back at his instruments, his eyes bulging, then at Corky. "What happened, Jake? Where's the island?"

"They 'moved' it," was his only answer.


	11. Chapter 11

SOME ONES TO COME HOME TO

The return voyage was uneventful, even if not in comparison. By the time, they reached Honolulu, Kearny was waiting at Corky's dock as they pulled in. Jake asked DeGroot once again about the "cover story". He confirmed it and Corky was told to say as little as possible.

As they tied off, Kearny waited for DeGroot to exit and pulled him towards the shore. Jake and Corky continued to unload supplies and watched from a distance. It seemed very heated on Kearny's part; DeGroot remained calm and seemed to coolly explain the story. A few minutes later, Kearny pulled Jake aside. Cutter relayed the exact same story. They had discovered the bodies of the soldiers, dead for weeks from radiation poisoning and written messages indicating the "leaking bomb" had been placed in a cave and then buried with rocks from a blast of TNT. Background radiation was normal and DeGroot, as an expert in nuclear weapons, said it would be inert.

Kearny seemed unconvinced to Jake, but he also seemed to want it "over with". In the weeks that followed, Jake saw a small clipping in the newspapers that an H-bomb test, part of a series "in the Marshall Islands", had been cancelled and the bomb "disassembled."

At Corky's, Kearny had issued one last veiled threat to Jake and Corky about "revealing what had happened on that island"…and seemed puzzled at their knowing smiles. Then the two friends said their goodbyes to Randall DeGroot. "Going to stick with the CIA," Jake asked him. DeGroot shook his head. "No, I think I'm going to back to college," he began, "Try to find some of the answers out here that I found on that island." "Good luck," Cutter replied and they shook hands with him and watched him leave.

"Well, Cork," Jake said, turning back to his friend, "Looks like you and me got in one last adventure." Corky smiled. "It was a doozy, Jake…though I'm still not quite sure of what happened." "Join the club," his friend responded. "Listen, that offer is still open, you and Tiki decide you want to come States-side, I'll put you in charge of the whole Maintenance Department." Corky smiled broadly. "I'll think about it, Jake." They embraced and shook hands and Cutter grabbed his stuff and hailed a nearby cab.

Jake Cutter flew back home alone. He spent the night in San Francisco, after getting in late, but called Koji to let him know he was back in the States and heading home tomorrow. "How did it go?" she asked. "I'll let you know when I get home…this could take a while."

Arriving back at his home the next morning, Jake was greeted by his wife at the door. The boys were at a friend's. Koji had wanted to speak to him alone before they knew he was home. He told her the whole story. She was silent for a moment. "Honey?" he asked looking at her. "I was just remembering something my mother used to say," she began, "The Japanese traditions of Shinto and Buddhism both say that the gods were capable of assuming human form, both the good ones and the evil ones."

Jake chuckled a bit. "You think those guys were 'gods'?" He saw her get a serious look on her face. "Jake, there are more mysteries to this world that you think." "Okay, I'm sorry, but…" Koji cut him off "I think you might have been given a glimpse behind the veil of reality. In fact, I know you have, my dear Jake." He was confused. "How?" A pause. "Because I just found out yesterday that I'm pregnant and I think in a few months, we will have a daughter."

Cutter nearly dropped. She grabbed his arm as he looked like he was slumping. He straightened up. "Uh…I uh…but …how? I mean, I know 'how', but aren't we a little old for…" She started smiling. "You mean, aren't 'I' a little old? Sorry, Jake," she laughed, "Between my youthful womb and your virility, I guess we're still in the baby-making business." He stayed stunned for a moment, then smiled broadly, and then embraced and kissed her. "I love you," he said, oddly meaning it more than he had ever meant it before. "I love you" she said, in the exact same way.

Seven months later, Rosie Cutter was born. She became a nurse and in 1976, joined a scientific and research project on an island in the South Pacific along with her friend Casey.


End file.
